


the adventures of three valos-kath

by teenytabris



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ataashi and Dorian should stop dancing around the subject and just get down to it already, Biscuit is sad, F/F, F/M, M/M, The Winter Palace is Not A Fun Place For Non-Humans, Yes Her Real Name Is Biscuit, Zyrah is tired and would like to stab
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-19 09:23:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22141993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenytabris/pseuds/teenytabris
Summary: A collection of stories about the adventures of three Valos-Kath mercenaries, Zyrah, Ataashi, and Biscuit.Will be out of order, as I'm writing them as I think of them
Relationships: Cremisius "Krem" Aclassi/Female Adaar, Female Adaar/Josephine Montilyet, Male Adaar/Dorian Pavus
Kudos: 5





	the adventures of three valos-kath

**Author's Note:**

> For my lovely discord friends, Lily and Tabsris! 
> 
> The Inquisitor, Zyrah Adaar, goes to the Winter Palace to stop Celene's assassination, and Biscuit Valos-Kath has a terrible time.

Biscuit was not ready. She had not been ready long before she even knew going to the Orlesian court was a definite. Maker, she wasn’t ready when it was a concept. Yet, here she was, flanking Zyrah’s left, Ataashi on Zyrah’s right, as they made their way up the grandest, most ornate, most ridiculous garden drive she’d ever seen. She doubted she could even have conceived of anything even close.   
  
The Grand Duke, the man whose hunting lodge the Inner Circle had been staying in, approached Zyrah as they entered the gates, and Biscuit watched as Zyrah sighed heavily, rolling her eyes. She touched her gently on her back, patting her a little.   
  
“You got this, mom,” Biscuit whispered.   
  
“Thanks, bickie,” Zyrah said, nudging her back, before bringing herself up to her truly intimidating height, even for a qunari. Josephine stepped up next to her, and Biscuit moved aside to give her room. There was some stomping and clanging as the Inquisition soldiers arranged themselves in two neat, orderly rows, Biscuit not even having to look to know that. She’d seen Cullen shouting orders at them in the courtyard, warning them not to seem like the ‘yokels they were’.   
  
“Is that...the Inquisitor?” An Orlesian voice, taking great pains to speak the King’s Tongue. Biscuit could feel her skin tighten as she clenched her fists, her fingernails lightly biting into her skin.   
  
“What, the ox? Can’t be.” Another voice. Biscuit’s nails dug in further.   
  
“Must be the Montilyet’s pet.” The first voice, now laughing.   
  
Biscuit turned to glare at them, about to yell something that would no doubt have them kicked out, when another set of fingernails bit into her forearm. She winced, and looked back, and then a little bit down, to see Leliana, blank faced and staring ahead, her hand almost hidden between them, even as it tightened on Biscuit’s arm.   
  
“Not now. I know it is insulting, and not just to Her Worship, but we must play The Game. For now.” Leliana’s words were calm and quiet, and while they did nothing to soothe the anger Biscuit felt, they did force her to relax, settle back into her position watching Zyrah’s back.   
  
Leliana’s head moved in a minute nod, and then she stepped back, standing between Varric and Cassandra.   
  
Biscuit kept her hands clenched, but relaxed her shoulders. She would not show how angry she was, that would make Zyrah look weak, to have such angry qunari at her side. Right? She had to be better, or at least blank like Leliana. She can do that, she can-   
  
“Ah!” She gasped quietly, feeling one nail break the skin on her hand. “F-” She started, then stopped the curse slipping past her lips. Okay, her hand was still closed, as long as she did that, she wouldn’t soil her dress, she wouldn’t.   
  
A big, calloused hand, a familiar hand, gently opened up her own, and she turned a small, grateful smile on Ataashi. He gave her a sad, but understanding look, and then she felt the small warmth of a heal spell.   
  
“It’s going to be a long night. Would you rather we go home?” He asked her, quietly, once they began to move towards the palace. He kept their hands joined.   
  
Biscuit gestured at Zyrah with her free hand. “Who watches her back better than us?”   
  
Ataashi chuckled, deep and warm. “True that. Can’t trust these shorties with anything, right?”   
  
Biscuit nodded firmly. “Exactly.”   
  
“As an actual shorty, thanks, guys,” Varric drawled.   
  
Biscuit giggled, and then gulped once they entered the building.   
  
\--  
  
Josephine arranged everyone in the order they would be presented in, the rest of the Inner Circle going first, Vivenne and Cassandra as the last two, then the advisors, then Zyrah herself. When Josephine showed her the list of titles the announcer was going to rattle off, Biscuit nearly snorted at the pained look in her eyes.   
  
“Darling, you couldn’t have them cut off, oh, I don’t know, all of them?” She said, turning begging eyes on Josephine, who looked back at her sternly.   
  
“This is important, Inquisitor, we set you up as something to be feared for your political prowess, and not your appearance, and we have an upper hand. They want you to fail, even if it would do them better for you to succeed,” Josephine urged, taking both of Zyrah’s hands.   
  
Zyrah rested their foreheads together, and Biscuit blushed at the soft, easy smiles on both of their faces.  
  
And then laughed at Zyrah’s scathing comment, quoting, “‘crusher of the vile apostates of the Mage Underground’!? Really?”   
  
Josephine thwapped her arm lightly, giving her a stern look. “Grin. Bear it. If that is how Orlais wants you, you will put up with it. Everyone! Places!”   
  
Biscuit gave Zyrah a thumbs up as she passed, Zyrah smiling tiredly at her, and then she joined the line of people to be announced to the Empress.   
  
Oh, Maker. The Empress of Orlais. Was going to look at Biscuit.   
  
Biscuit reached up and nervously patted one curly horn, like it would disappear if she did.   
  
\--  
  
“...Lord Dorian Pavus, member of the Circle of Vyrantium, son of Lord Magister Halward Pavus of Asariel!”  
  
Dorian walked across the ballroom floor like he owned it. Which, Biscuit guessed, at some point, Tevinter probably did. Or something. She caught the almost dreamy look in Ataashi’s eye, and tried to subtly kick his ankle. He did not turn around, probably because kicking someone’s ankles in the Winter Palace was some sort of social faux pas, but he did reach back and squeeze Biscuit’s hand, just the slightest bit too tight. She had to hold in a delighted squeal.   
  
“Madame Vivienne, First Enchanter of the Circle of Magi, Enchanter of the Imperial Court, Mistress of the Duke of Ghislain!”  
  
Vivenne positively floated through the palace, glittering in silver, horns raised proudly on her head. Well, she could be proud of them. She can take hers off. Biscuit curled a hand around hers, just for one moment, and then caught the eye of one staring courtier, and turned her look to the floor.   
  
“Seeker Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena-”   
  
“Oh, do shut up.” Cassandra didn’t even let the man finish before she stomped her way up the ballroom, in full military parade style, her loose black dress allowing for her short, sharp movements.   
  
“Ataashi Adaar, of the Valos-Kath!”   
  
Ataashi managed to not look afraid, nervous, angry or suspicious. He kept his eyes fixed on the Empress at the end, walking proudly and calmly, and bowed very nicely. Biscuit was probably going to trip.   
  
She took a breath, and waited for her name to be called.   
  
“Bis- ...is...is this correct? Her name is...Biscuit?” The announcer’s voice was incredulous.   
  
Biscuit lost Josephine’s hissed, indignant reply as shame roared in Biscuit’s ears. Could she run? She could just leave the line, go and hide. It’s a big palace, there’s probably somewhere an eight-foot-tall horned monster could hide.   
  
And then she caught Ataashi’s eye, as she looked up, ready to turn tail, and saw him subtly lift his chin, and jerk it gently towards himself.   
  
Come on, Biscuit. You can do it, he was saying.   
  
Biscuit squared her shoulders, lifted her head, and willed herself not to cry. Then she set off across the ballroom, forcing herself not to hunch, not to look around, not to give anything any mind except reaching the woman in blue and glittering gold at the end.   
  
Halfway through her walk, the announcer called out, “Biscuit Valos-Kath, of the Valos-Kath!” The courtiers around the room tittered lightly, and to others it may have been a reaction to the late call, or perhaps the slight oddity of her name, but to Biscuit, it was like a dagger of ice plunged through her heart.   
  
She did not belong here. She barely belonged at Skyhold, what in the void was she doing here?   
  
Once before the Empress, Biscuit bowed, stiffly, and saw the serene nod in return, and she forced herself to climb the stairs past her, and back up towards Ataashi without punching anyone. Or, as was more likely, crying.   
  
Ataashi was quick to wrap an arm around her, and even in her hazy state of shame and terror, she quirked an eyebrow at how close Dorian was lingering. Ataashi frowned playfully at her, and squeezed her shoulders.   
  
“Come on. Let’s see how weak this fancy human booze is,” he said, already leading her towards the exit.   
  
“But- Zyrah-” Biscuit argued, craning her neck around Ataashi, to see Zyrah, Josephine’s arm threaded through hers, walking up to the Empress, the Grand Duke on her other side.   
  
“She’ll be fine. Leliana’s got her birds all around, and no one’s doing anything until at least the first round of speeches. You can take a few minutes, and we can go and get something to soothe those rattled nerves,” Ataashi insisted.   
  
“Or, we could cause a real spectacle. Two qunari and a Tevinter roaring drunk in the Winter Palace! That would distract any attempted assassin,” Dorian said, piping up from Ataashi’s other side.   
  
“As long as you’re sure,” Biscuit said, watching as the Empress curtsied to Zyrah, Josephine, and the Grand Duke.   
  
“Well, I could also dance for them, but to really shock them I’d need ten scarves,” Dorian continued. Biscuit turned a grimace at him, and he grinned sunnily.   
  
“I’ll remember that,” Ataashi said, his voice a rumble. Biscuit made a show of pretending to gag, and Ataashi laughed, squeezing her again.   
  
“Why on Thedas would the Empress invite such...vulgar beasts?” Even with the masks, Biscuit knew exactly what kind of face the people were pulling. She stepped away slightly from Ataashi, her head dipping down again.   
  
“We should probably just go and be out of the way,” she said. “Until we’re needed.”  
  
“Sounds like an excellent plan to me,” Dorian agreed.   
  
The three of them made their way out of the ballroom, Iron Bull, Sera and Solas joining them on the way through.   
  
“Is this the outcasts party?” Iron Bull rumbled, nudging Biscuit’s other side, and she rolled her eyes.   
  
“‘d rather be an outcast, look at this place,” Sera snarled, poking her tongue out at a staring courtier. “Should shut the doors and throw some bees in."   
  
“Earwigs,” Biscuit said, looking out of the corner of her eye to Sera. “I’d go with earwigs.”  
  
Sera’s delighted shriek made at least three women jump, and Biscuit snorted. Quietly. “Ewwwwww, I hate those things! Pinchy little butts.”  
  
“Fits this group quite perfectly,” Dorian said, nodding over to one such man, “adjusting” himself.   
  
Sera let out a long, disgusted groan, that set the group laughing again, even Solas chuckling quietly.   
  
Iron Bull led the way through a corridor, and out into a small garden courtyard. Only a few nobles had made their way out here, and a minstrel was playing a lute, the music blending in nicely with the trickling of the water feature. Biscuit recoiled a little when she saw that the ‘feature’ was a drowned Andraste.  
  
“Orlais is weird,” she commented. Sera growled in agreement.   
  
The group got settled in one corner, Bull keeping an eye on the entrance, probably for some kind of signal from Zyrah, and the rest settled around him, Solas, as per usual, off to one side.   
  
Biscuit sat with her back against the wall, hands cupped around a tiny, fragile glass of wine. It smelled rich and fruity, and the sweetness of that was making her stomach turn. Or maybe that was just lingering anxiety. She wasn’t picky, it could be both.   
  
There was a light knock on her head, and she looked up to scowl at Ataashi. His sad and understanding smile was back on. “Don’t get lost in there, bickie.”   
  
Biscuit leaned her chin in her hand. “I’m trying. But this place is-”  
  
“Trying?” Bull chimed in, and Biscuit nodded thoroughly. “I can see everyone in this place calculating the best way to mess with us. Anyone tries it, and I’ll wear their skull like my fancy little mask.”   
  
“I’d recommend perhaps not murdering any non-Tevinters at this party,” Dorian said, arching one eyebrow.   
  
“You realise you include yourself in that, Dorian,” Solas said.   
  
Dorian pretended to jump, turning big surprised eyes on him. “Solas! I didn’t even know you were there! Truly, your feet are lighter than Cole’s.”   
  
Cole actually appeared then, and Dorian jumped for real, one hand going to his chest like his heart was going to bust out of it. He glared at Cole accusingly, and Cole blinked at him once. “Josephine said I couldn’t wear my hat.”  
  
“And that was worth frightening the life from me, was it?” Dorian grumbled darkly.   
  
Ataashi patted Dorian’s shoulder. “There, there, darling, you’ll be fine,” he drawled. Dorian huffed, but seemed a little pleased by the pet name.  
  
Biscuit leaned into Ataashi’s line of sight to give him a Look, which Ataashi stuck his tongue out at her in reply.   
  
Then he turned to Bull. “The Chargers not allowed in?” He asked, and Biscuit’s eyes widened. Ataashi winked at her.   
  
Bull laughed. “Nah, the boys don’t have the training I do. Skinner would have the place screaming in seconds.”   
  
“I would’ve thought at least Krem would get involved,” Ataashi continued, and Biscuit began forming a plan to murder him.   
  
“I wonder why you’re asking about him specifically, Ataashi,” Bull said, a grin stretching across his face, turning to look directly at Biscuit.   
  
“Don’t look at me!” Biscuit squeaked.   
  
“It’s because you like him, isn’t it?” Cole said.   
  
“Cole!” Biscuit squawked.   
  
Cole blinked. “But everyone here already knew?”   
  
“Cooooooooooole,” Biscuit moaned, dropping her head into her hands, making plans to murder the entire group, as they began to laugh, and soothe Biscuit’s now shattered ego.   
  
She felt something flick her ear, and scowled into her hands. “No, Ataashi, I hate you.”   
  
“No, you don’t,” his voice said, very close to her ear, his arms wrapping around her.   
  
“I definitely do. I’m plotting your demise as I speak.”   
  
“Will it be a glorious death? Will there be dragons?”   
  
“If I’m feeling generous you might get a wyvern,” Biscuit shot back, looking up to glare at him.   
  
Ataashi squeezed one shoulder. “I’ll be on my best behaviour, I promise.”   
  
Dorian made a sad noise, and a little blush burst along Ataashi’s cheeks.   
  
“Okay, I am soothed,” Biscuit declared, poking it. Ataashi batted her hand away, rolling his eyes.   
  
Things seemed to become almost calm, as the rest of the courtyard ignored their little group, Biscuit’s good humour coming back in inches, the less people paid her attention. Talk even turned very firmly away from Biscuit and her alleged feelings for Bull’s lieutenant, and onto the hardest fight they’d had since joining the Inquisition.   
  
Biscuit threw her head back and laughed joyfully at Cole’s insistence that his hardest fight was just wanting to wear his hat.   
  
“Goodness. Is it a qunari invasion?” A man with a golden mask sneered as he walked past. Bull rolled his eyes, Ataashi sighed.   
  
Biscuit’s laugh cut off, and she sank back in on herself, her body going from nearly relaxed to shaking with fear. Demons. She’d rather demons. At least she’d be allowed to decapitate them.   
  
“Excuse me, ser, but what was it you just said?” Zyrah’s voice said, commanding and angry. Biscuit looked up.   
  
Zyrah, resplendent in Inquisition red and gold, glared down at the man, who barely came up to her chest.   
  
“Get ‘im, boss,” Bull murmured.   
  
“It was just a surprise, to see so many of your kind, Inquisitor. I meant no disrespect.” The man even bowed to her.   
  
Zyrah was entirely unmoved. “Yes, what disrespect could be taken from someone calling out loudly enough that three qunari keeping to themselves is an invasion. There isn’t anything insulting in that.”   
  
“I only meant to-”  
  
“Undermine them, make them feel unwelcome, out of place, and hated. I can assure you, no effort on your part is needed for that. Each and every qunari here, including myself, are not part of the qun. Three of us never had been. Your insipid comments have been noted, and I certainly hope you have no holdings or land that might need protection from rifts. I might find myself quite busy.” Zyrah looked down her nose at the man, who was positively quaking. “Have a good evening, ser.” She brushed past him, ignoring every stammer that tried to become words, and headed for the group.   
  
Biscuit and Ataashi started a round of applause, which she rolled her eyes at, but grinned.   
  
“That was spectacular, Inquisitor, I find myself quite overcome,” Dorian said, fanning himself with one hand.   
  
“Truly, Zyrah. It seems we must watch for your sharp tongue, as well as your knives,” Solas said, sounding deeply impressed.   
  
Sera sniffed. “Should’ve just kneed his balls. Would’ve been quicker.”   
  
Zyrah laughed. “Maker, I wanted to. Or just stab him. But I don’t actually want to upset Josie.”   
  
“We don’t want a domestic at a fancy ball, no,” Ataashi said, grinning.   
  
“A shame. She’s so gorgeous when she whittles people down with nothing but words,” Zyrah said, with a huge, dramatic, happy sigh. Biscuit giggled, and Zyrah grinned down at her, before sitting next to her, arm going around Biscuit’s waist. “What’s the gossip out here then? Why are the non-humans all gathered together?”   
  
“Varric’s not here,” Cole pointed out. “I’ll go find him.” And then he was gone.   
  
Dorian huffed indignantly. “I know I do a good show of being other-worldly beautiful, but I am, actually, human.”   
  
“Rumoured, at best,” Bull commented.   
  
“It is somewhat beginning to look like we are plotting something,” Solas said, sounding almost gleeful.   
  
“Don’t know about you lot, but I’m planning on pantsing as many of these arseholes as I can,” Sera said, rocking back on her heels.   
  
“I’ll get in on that,” Biscuit said, smiling at Sera.   
  
“Right, well, while you’re going around, relieving people of their breeches, keep an ear out for anything out of place. I’ve already had Gaspard trying to chat me up for information on Briala,” Zyrah said, sounding tired.   
  
“And it’s barely an hour into the festivities. Politics work fast,” Solas said.   
  
Zyrah waved a hand. “It’s like they don’t know we’re here to hunt down Tevinters.”   
  
“Oh, should I start running then?” Dorian said, mostly into his wine glass.   
  
“Dorian, if you don’t know that you’re excluded from that by now, you never will,” Zyrah laughed. Dorian drained his wine glass, and gave her a toothy smile.   
  
“What are you all doing?!” Said a shocked and worried voice, and then Josephine came into view, eyes wide. “Do you know how this looks? You cannot all gather in corners! Spread out! Mingle!”   
  
“Josie, come on, they’re all getting such looks-” Zyrah started, and Josephine sighed.   
  
“I know, I know, but we cannot let any bad light shine on the Inquisition. Sera, Solas, Leliana would like to speak with you. Zyrah, we’ve been called to speak to the Empress, finally,” she ordered, and then made shooing motions at Biscuit, Ataashi, Dorian, and Bull.   
  
Zyrah hugged Biscuit to her. “Are you okay, bickie?” She whispered.   
  
Biscuit shrugged. “I’d rather be here watching your back than anywhere else.”   
  
“That’s not an answer.”   
  
“Should you maybe not keep the Empress waiting?” Biscuit said, wriggling a little away from Zyrah.   
  
Zyrah dropped a kiss to her temple. “Don’t listen to what anyone of these worms say. You’re worth twelve of Orlais.”   
  
“Yes, mom,” Biscuit said sarcastically, but did smile gratefully up at Zyrah.   
  
“Careful. One of these dumbasses might think that’s true,” Zyrah said, darkly and with complaint. With a final squeeze, she got up and went with Josephine, Sera and Solas following behind.   
  
“Well. What do we do now, that we’re not allowed to plot in shadowy corners?” Dorian wondered.   
  
Ataashi grinned at him, a little sideways. “Well. We could go dance?”   
  
Dorian’s eyes seemed to actually sparkle at that. “Maker’s breath, he does have some initiative!” He accepted the hand Ataashi reached out to him, and the two headed back towards the ball room, Biscuit holding in the urge to wolf-whistle after them.   
  
At least they got to the door, before someone recognisable as an Inquisition scout, though she was dressed as a servant, stopped them, saying something in a low voice to Ataashi. Biscuit stood up with Bull, and as they got closer, Biscuit could hear what the scout was saying.  
  
“...from about two pm today,” she said, and Biscuit could see Ataashi’s head wrinkle with a frown.   
  
“And no one’s tried to look for them?” he asked.   
  
“They’re elves, ser. No one would bother, except Briala,” the scout reported.   
  
“Zyrah’s got enough on her plate. We could investigate this,” Dorian said, and Ataashi nodded.   
  
“Bull? Biscuit? Fancy knocking some heads together?” Ataashi asked over his shoulder.   
  
Bull cracked his knuckles. Biscuit bounced a little on the balls of her feet.   
  
“Whose heads are we cracking?” Varric’s voice said, coming into view next to the scout, Cole following in his wake.   
  
“Excellent! You can both come too. Come on, I’ll explain on the way,” Ataashi said, and the group headed towards the kitchens, led by the scout.   
  
This Biscuit could do. This is how she could help best. Then maybe she wouldn’t have to withstand the weight of eyes on her. 

* * *

The Inquisition was triumphant, Celene’s leadership firm, Gaspard locked away, and Briala as the new Marquis of the Dales. Things were well, Zyrah cementing her place as one of the most impressive beings in Thedas, and the bright smiles of people as they now could truly enjoy the ball. True, bodies did have to be removed, and there was still clean up needed in most parts of the castle, but the cavernous ball room remained at least mostly unscathed by the violence.   
  
But for all the joy, all the sudden calm and acceptance, Biscuit still lingered by the door, nursing a cup of wine, and trying to seem as inconspicuous as possible. She did smile, watching as Zyrah and Josephine spun gracefully around the floor, both of their cheeks flush with joy, as well as Dorian and Ataashi, both seemingly pretend that they weren’t furiously flirting while they danced. Bull had even taken Leliana’s hand, and was doing a truly wonderful job of leading her about the floor.   
  
“Not a dancer?” Said a voice, and Biscuit felt flames burst in her face.   
  
“I...I can’t say I really have before,” she said, turning a shy smile to Krem, who came and leaned on the wall next to her, looking very fine in his suit. The burnt orange and gold accents truly suited him, making his skin glow and his eyes bright. Biscuit turned her eyes back to the dancers forcefully, lest she stare at Krem with an intensity that would definitely make him uncomfortable.   
  
“Josephine didn’t wrangle you into lessons?” Krem asked, in a joking tone. Biscuit giggled.   
  
“She did. I know the steps well enough.”   
  
“Not found someone you want to then?” Krem’s voice was casual, and it made Biscuit despair a little bit. She couldn’t exactly say ‘no, I was waiting for you’, even as romantic that would be. It wasn’t the truth.   
  
“It’s not that. I just...” Biscuit fidgeted with her cup a little. “...I think there’s enough qunari on the floor right now.”   
  
“Bull filled me in on the shit the nobles said. You know that none of it’s true, right?” Krem insisted, sounding fierce. He was angry for her, and Biscuit smiled into her shoulder, her whole body flushing with warmth.   
  
Once she had contained her sudden flames, she looked at Krem, her smile feeling droopy. “It’s not that I don’t know that qunari are feared or hated or- whatever. I don’t know. I just don’t want to make things harder for Zyrah.”   
  
“So...you’re not worried about stepping on people’s toes physically, but metaphorically?” Krem asked.   
  
“I suppose that’s apt,” Biscuit said, smile lifting a bit.   
  
Krem cast his eyes down, looking into his own cup. “So, if I was to ask you to dance? A Tevinter, a mercenary under the charge of a qunari, an ‘aqun-atlok’, someone probably as looked down on...would that make it easier?” He looked up at her, and he looked so hopeful, Biscuit nearly said yes.   
  
But she couldn’t. She felt a spectacle, something being forced out to entertain a crowd. A trained bear, a clown.   
  
So she shook her head, and bit her lip when Krem looked a little defeated.   
  
“I think I’ve had enough of the Orlesian high and mighty for one night,” she said, by way of explanation, and Krem nodded, smiling in acceptance.  
  
“I don’t blame you.” He was good. He was a truly good man.   
  
“I wouldn’t say no to a walk, though?” Biscuit blurted out suddenly. Krem’s eyes widened, and a smile began to widen his mouth. “I...I heard the gardens were something pretty spectacular. When you’re not fighting cultists through it,” she finished, lamely.   
  
Krem put his cup on a nearby table, and Biscuit bit her lip, sudden worry barraging through her brain, despite the light in Krem’s eyes. “Then, my lady Biscuit. Would you care to join me for a walk?” Krem offered his arm to her.   
  
Biscuit’s giggle was thrilled, and she put her cup down quickly. “My lord Cremisius, it would be my pleasure!” She exclaimed, quietly, and wrapped her arm in his.   
  
As they left, heading for the gardens, sneaking pleased grins at each other, Biscuit thought she heard a roar of approval from three different voices, and could almost pin them down as Zyrah, Ataashi and Bull.   
  
The jerks, she thought, completely fondly.


End file.
